Tara raises an eyebrow. So he's mute?
But when she studies him with a professional eye, she doesn't think that's the case. She gently takes his small hand to check his pulse, then examines his throat and vocal cords. She quickly confirms his vocal cords are intact with no physical damage. This means his silence is likely psychological, pointing toward autism or severe trauma.
Tara looks at him with a wave of sympathy. He is such a sweet, delicate child; whose family could let him suffer like this? To have both physical and psychological struggles at such a young age is incredibly tough. It's a complicated situation.
"Why are you playing here all by yourself? Won't your family worry if they can't find you?"
The boy shakes his head, looking a bit sullen. It is impossible to tell what is going through his mind.
"Were you painting? Did you paint this?" Even as she asks, she already knows the answer. His hands are covered in paint, he is the only one here, and the canvas is a half-finished masterpiece.
The boy nods, confirming the painting is his. Tara turns her attention back to the canvas.
Tara isn't usually one to overflow with maternal instinct or boundless sympathy, especially toward strangers. But seeing this brilliant, fragile child, her heart aches. She gently squeezes his hand and offers a comforting smile.
"Don't force yourself to do things you hate. At your age, you should be playing and having a happy childhood. If someone is forcing you, remember it. When you're strong enough, fight back. Never let anyone walk all over you for the rest of your life."
She is speaking to the boy, but it feels like she is talking to herself. She used to try so hard to be cheerful, suppressing her own pain just to please the Dennis family and fit in. But in the end, her sacrifices never yielded the results she hoped for.

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